


Papa

by TheLoneReader



Series: Of goats and men [2]
Category: Tennis RPF
Genre: 5+1 Things, Family, Family Fluff, Father-Daughter Relationship, Kid Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-03
Updated: 2017-08-11
Packaged: 2018-11-23 01:04:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11392131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLoneReader/pseuds/TheLoneReader
Summary: 5 times someone overheard and 1 time everybody did





	1. i

**Author's Note:**

> I've been working on this for a good long while. I originally wanted to post it in one part, as an OS, but I've been stuck on one of the parts for a while now, so I eventually decided to post it in separate parts. It will probably be some time before I finish it, but I hope having posted the beginning of this fic will help me get on with the last parts. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy it. Let me know wether y'all would be interested in more of this!
> 
> (There will be several characters in this fic, speaking different languages. To make things simple, everything is written in English, but I imagined the characters who share a native language using it when they speak to each other. Roger and Rafa speak to their kid in Swiss German and Spanish respectively, and in English when they are all together.) 
> 
>  
> 
> Usual disclaimer, this is purely fiction etc

 

 

**i   Juan Monaco**

 

Rafa was sprawled out on the couch, his eyes closed and his neck crooked a little as he tried to fit as much of his body as he could in the patch of sun falling from the window.

‘You look like a cat’

Rafa opened an eye, raising a hand to shield his face from the light.

‘Qué?’

‘I had a cat when I was young. He used to do just that, you know. Lay on the couch, stretching, following the sunlight all afternoon.’ Roger smiled mischievously at his boyfriend from behind his newspaper, elbows resting on the kitchen counter.

The Spaniard shook his head, his hair flying in all directions.

‘Very funny, Rogelio.’ He answered, trying to tame a lock that refused to cooperate. ‘I never know you like cats.’

’They’re all right’, Roger shrugged. ‘I mean, I loved that cat, but if I was getting a pet today I’d rather go for a dog.’

He chuckled when he noticed Rafa wrinkling his nose in disapprobation.

‘Not a Djokovic kind of dog! A proper dog! Big one’, he teased.

Rafa sat up in alarm.

‘We _no_ are getting a dog, Roger. No way!’

The Swiss smirked a little and arched an eyebrow.

‘ _We?_ ’

Rafa blushed and dropped his arm on his face.

‘You know what I mean.’

Roger’s smile widened. He slid off the stool he was perched on, and crossed the room rapidly, a feline-like quality to his steps. He settled on top of his boyfriend, trapping the younger man’s head between his arms, a predatory look on his face.

‘I don’t think I do. What is it that you mean, _Rafael_?’

Rafa gulped. His lover was definitely in a playful mood.

‘Is just… I was thinking, you know, now that we are telling the world, maybe… Maybe we live together, no?’ He squirmed a little on the couch. ‘I mean, not all the time, maybe, but more often? When we are not in the tournaments, we can train in the same place? I can come with you to Switzerland, and then we go in Mallorca, sì? But only if you want…’ He added nervously, stumbling on his words. ‘If you no want, is fine, you have your house, and all the things for the niña, I know…’

Above him Roger was grinning. He cut him off with a quick peck on the mouth.

‘Hey. Of course I want to. As soon as we don’t have to hide anymore, I’m gonna stick to your side like glue, you’ll be sick of me in a few months.’ Rafa wrapped his arms around Roger’s waist. ‘No chance’, he protested, before lifting his head to capture the other’s lips.

 

They spent several minutes like that, in each other’s embrace, sharing long, slow kisses, their skin warm from the Californian sun.

‘Bedroom?’ Roger asked in a hoarse voice.

Rafa nodded quickly, shivering.

 

[...]

 

A couple of hours later, the flat was almost silent as the two young men made out lazily in the bathroom, the mirrors of which were still fogged from the shower they had just shared. They clung to each other, fingers running through damp hair. The kiss remained slow though, not getting heated despite the long minutes. They were simply enjoying a moment of intimacy, their towel clad bodies pressed up together.

‘So…’ Roger started when they broke up for air. ‘How did it go with David?’

Rafa smiled, wiping the drops of water sliding down his forehead.

‘He thought I make joke… how you say? You know, when you hide the camera?’

Roger smirked, as he pulled on a pair of underwear.

‘For real?’ he asked.

‘Yes! He not want to believe me, so I show him a photo, and he say is photoshop!’ They both burst out laughing at that. ‘But then I explain, and he believe. He was really shocked, but after he was nice. Say he wish we are happy.’

‘That’s great. I’m so glad your friends are supporting you like that’, the Swiss said with fondness in his voice. He opened the connecting door to their bedroom and stepped out as Rafa rummaged through their bags for deodorant.

‘Sì, me too! We have good friends, Rogelio.’

‘We really do. So, is there anyone left you want to tell?’

There was a pause for a few seconds.

‘Juan’

‘Monaco?’ Roger asked, stopping on his way to the closet.

‘Sì. I was thinking, maybe I tell him to come train with me in Mallorca after Miami. We can speak in the quiet.’

‘Oh… Ok, then.’ He turned back to the cupboard, making a big show of looking for a shirt. It was Rafa’s turn to stop mid motion.

‘Is problem for you?’

Roger disappeared further into his cupboard, his face flushed. He really didn’t want to admit that his only problem with Juan had nothing to do with his potential reaction to the announcement of their relationship. He had never been the possessive type, but he couldn’t help feeling a tiny bit jealous at the easy banter and warm touches the Argentine shared with his man. There was no way in hell he was going to say that out loud though, so he shook his head.

‘No, no, it’s fine. If you want to tell him, go ahead.’

‘You sure?’

‘Yes I’m sure! Why wouldn’t I be sure?’ he exclaimed, his voice a little higher than he intended.

Rafa planted his feet firmly on the floor, and placed his hands on his hips.

‘Because you are acting strange.’

’I’m not.’ He turned around, finally facing the Spaniard. ‘Really, it’s fine’, he continued, managing a smile. ‘I was just being stupid. He’s your friend, you should tell him.’

‘Ok, then...’

‘Ok.’

They added nothing for a while, the silence only broken by the ruffling of the clothes Roger was now folding.

‘So, you will come?’

‘Come?’

‘To Manacor? Train with me, and Pico, if he come. Prepare for the clay, no?’.

The Swiss felt a surge of affection at this words. He dropped the tie he was holding, crossed the room and took his boyfriend in his arms.

‘I think that can be arranged…’

 

***

 

The sun was shining brightly on the clay courts of Manacor. A dozen of yellow fluffy balls laid discarded on the floor, patiently waiting to be picked up and put aside for later. Both teams had retreated to the house the moment their charges had started playing tennis-football, but not before Toni had sternly instructed Rafa to sweep the court before leaving. As if he needed to be reminded.

For now, Rafa and Juan were hovering around the same bench, packing their gear into their bags and chatting relaxingly. They were indulging in their usual banter, and Rafa was laughing loudly, propped up against the back of the bench. Pico smiled gently, his warm eyes fixed on his friend’s face. He quietly got closer, until he was standing in Rafa’s personal space.

‘So, you said you wanted to talk to me?’ he asked in a low tone.

Rafa’s smile faded as he stood straighter. He hung his head and shuffled a little on his feet.

‘Sì. It’s important… Maybe we should sit d…’

‘Papa!’ a little voice interrupted.

Both men turned their heads just in time to see a 4-feet-tall blonde running towards them at full speed, before she threw herself at Rafa, almost stepping on Juan’s shoes on the way.

The Argentine took a step backwards, watching his friend pick up the kid and settle her on his hip. His eyes fell on the child’s face, and on her RF T-Shirt.

‘Oh…’ he whispered, glancing up at Rafa. He blinked several times incredulously. ‘ _Oh!_ ’

‘Yeah…’

‘So _that_ ’s what you wanted to tell me?’

‘Sì.’ Rafa blushed a little. The young girl poked him on the cheek, trying to get his attention.

‘Sì, sì, I’m listening. What are you doing here anyway, hmm?’

‘I wanted to play outside! And Daddy said we could come see you train ! Right Daddy?’ she added in English, turning towards the other side of the court.

Rafa followed her gaze and snorted. Roger was there, leaning against the net, arms crossed, and looking entirely too smug for Rafa’s taste. The interruption was far too well timed to be a coincidence.

Having been noticed by the two other men, the Swiss strutted across the court to join them. He clasped Juan’s hand and patted his shoulder in greeting, before throwing his left arm around his boyfriend’s neck.

‘Good practise?’ he asked in an angelic tone. Pico looked a bit sheepish, and turned to ruffle through his bag. Rafa set the fidgeting kid on her feet.

‘You did that on purpose, sì?’ He shook his head, torn between amusement and exasperation.

‘Did what?’ Roger replied, trying his best to present an innocent face, but failing to contain a huge, satisfied smile.

The Spaniard started to answer, but was interrupted by a small hand tugging on his big, sweaty one. He looked down to their daughter, who had picked up a ball and one of his rackets that had been laying on the floor.

‘Play with me papa!’

He shook his head, letting himself drop on the bench.

‘I’m tired. Daddy play with you.’

Roger raised his hands in front of him.

‘I can’t, I don’t have any rack…’ He was cut mid sentence when the younger man extracted another racket from his bag, and held it out to him with a triumphant grin.

He took it, frowning in distaste.

‘Not good enough for you?’ his boyfriend teased.

‘I like mine better, nothing personal. But seriously, I can’t play with _that_ , I’ll be disastrous.’

‘Sì, because is such a challenge’, Rafa snorted again, his eyes following the little blond head racing to the other side of the net. ‘All the newspaper talk about tomorrow, no? “GOAT Roger Federer, get beat by 6-year-old, blame the racket”.’

‘Ha. Ha.’ The older man replied, but he got into position nevertheless. ‘Ok, then. But I want Juan to be the umpire. I can’t trust you, you always take her side.’

‘No, no, no. Is not true. I always call the balls right, you know that! You just jealous because I am better at the challenge.’

‘Hawkeye agreeing with you definitely does not mean that your call is right! The thing doesn’t even work properl…’

Rafa tuned out the rest of his boyfriend’s protestations, turning his head to face a shell-shocked looking Pico.

‘Sorry. I wanted to tell you a bit more slowly. But obviously…’ He gestured towards Roger, shaking his head a little.

His friend looked at him intensely, and finally seemed to snap out of it.

‘So, while we enjoy this Battle of the Federers - sponsored by Babolat, mind you - care to explain exactly _how on earth_ this happened?’

 

 


	2. ii

**ii      Ana Maria Parera**

 

The sun was blazing on Manacor, and Rafa’s skin was slick with sweat. He raised his right wrist to his face in an attempt to wipe his forehead, before remembering that he wasn’t wearing any sweatbands. He growled a little, but bit back the curses that he would usually have let out. His mama had proven in the past that she wasn’t above slapping him on the back of the head for swearing in front of the kids. An experience that he cared very little to repeat, especially in the present company. (His boyfriend would never let him hear the end of it.)

Maribel was lounging in a deck chair, enjoying the sun and half following the football match that was taking place on the lawn in front of her. She had been the one to form the teams, placing all their little cousins with Roger’s daughter in the first one, and Rafa on his own in the other. ‘For equity’, she had said, but he was convinced his sister secretly took delight in watching him running around in every direction. As small as they were, the kids had no pity.

It would had been more fun if Roger had agreed to join them, he thought. At least, the little monsters would have had another target for their relentless assaults. But his boyfriend had gotten a call from Switzerland just before they were about to start playing, and had insisted that he had to take it. Well, time to stop messing around, he decided. Only grown up or not, he was about to remind everybody who the dominating Nadal was.

 

*

 

Ana Maria was fixing drinks for everybody in the kitchen, keeping an eye on the little crowd through the wide open window. She was happy to see her son this relaxed. She had been rather surprised when Rafael had revealed that he was involved with Federer. She had always liked the Swiss when they met at tournaments, he was a nice and polite young man, but not really what she had imagined her son-in-law would look like. She had decided to give him the benefice of the doubt however, and had welcomed him with open arms. He had proven to be as well mannered and pleasant as always in a daily life setting. Meeting his daughter for the first time the day before had been great too. The little blond was adorable and very lively, but also extremely well-mannered. The thing that had entirely sold the relationship to Ana Maria though, was seeing how comfortable her son was with his boyfriend. He seemed more relaxed than she had seen him in a long time, almost glowing with happiness. And if her child was happy, well she could only be happy for him, right?

And yet… She sighed, reaching for the ice cubes in the freezer. If she was totally honest, she couldn’t help feeling a twinge of regret when she saw Roger with his baby in his arms, their eyes identical and their smiles so similar…

Shaking her head sadly, she started settling all the glasses on a tray.

 

*

 

In the meantime, Roger was pacing back and forth on the patio, trying to focus his attention on Seve’s voice on the other end of the phone.

‘Sit down!’ Maribel whinged. ‘You make my head spin with all the walking.’

“Sorry”, Roger mouthed soundlessly, dropping next to her on the grass. His conversation carried on for several minutes before he finally hung up.

The young woman snorted.

‘Is very weird, the Swiss German.’

Roger gave a noncommittal shrug.

‘He learn? My brother?’

Roger chuckled.

‘I tried to teach him some, once. We both agreed it was not a good idea rather quickly’, he answered, eliciting a second snort. It was beginning to seem like it was a family trait.

 

Their chat was interrupted by a loud cheer and several grunts of frustration when Rafa scored a goal from the middle of the makeshift field. Roger laughed wholeheartedly at his daughter’s pout. Rafa seemed to have noticed as well, because he grabbed her and tossed her upside down against his shoulder before starting to tickle her sides mercilessly.

‘Noooooooo’, she protested in between giggles. ‘Stooooop, Papa!’

 

Roger noticed Maribel’s eyebrows shooting up, but they were both distracted by a loud noise behind them. Ana Maria was standing next to the patio door and appeared to have dropped a tray loaded with tall glasses.

‘Oh my God, are you ok?’ Roger asked jumping to his feet. ‘Let me help with that!’

Next to him, Maribel bent down to mop up the mess, as the older woman tried to shoo them away.

‘No, no, esta bien...’ Her voice shook and she turned to hide the tears shining in her eyes.

Her daughter grabbed her by the elbow and led her outside, whispering quick words in Spanish.

 

Alone and confused, the Swiss picked up the pieces of glass and headed to the kitchen. He threw the shards in the bin, safely away from the tiny feet running around outside, and started cleaning the floor. As he was rinsing the sponge, Rafa’s sister slid into the room behind him.

‘Everything ok?’ he asked.

She nodded curtly, wiping the counter next to him.

‘Okaaay then’, he said, a bit taken aback.

‘It was difficult for her, you know. When Rafael says he likes men’ she started abruptly.

Roger frowned.

‘Not because that’s a problem’ she added before he could interrupt. ‘But because she worry. You know, she thinks it will be tough for him, to have a normal life, a quiet life. We all worry it will be difficult to find someone, to be happy, with all the journalists and everybody watching...’

She turned around to face him, leaning against the sink.

‘And then he tells us about you two, and well, we are all surprised, but we see him so happy, so we are happy too.’

Roger let out a little smile at that.

‘Thank you.’

‘For sure. But she is still a bit worried and, you know...' Maribel fidgeted, a little uncomfortable. ‘She is happy he found someone he loves, of course. All the family is. I am so relieved my brother gets to be in love like everybody else. But for a mother, is different… They are always afraid for so many things…’

Roger nodded slowly, encouraging her to go on.

‘You have to understand, she never minded who he fell in love with, but it was really difficult for her to think he would never have children. She knows how much he loves kids.’

‘A lot of gay people have kids though’

‘I know that. But it’s not as easy. And it’s even more complicated because he is not out you know… So I guess she always think he will not have them, or at least not before he stops playing. She always get a little sad when she see him with little children, our cousins, or with our friends. I can see it in her eyes.’

‘I get that, but…’

‘What I mean, is I think it was very emotional for her this week. It made a lot of things come up to the surface seeing him with your daughter…’

‘Our.’

‘What?’

‘Our daughter. He’s been taking care of her since she was little. He knows her by heart. He taught her so many things. Taught her Spanish. She’s his as well. She’s ours.’

Maribel’s eyes fell to the ground, fogged by unshed tears.

‘I noticed, she speaks it very well. It means a lot for us. It’s amazing seeing them so close. And it make my mother really happy, but in a way, it reminds her of what she thinks he will never have…’

‘But he does… I mean, I know she doesn’t look like him, but that’s just physical. She’s like him on so many aspects. Personality wise, she takes a lot after him. She’s his kid, hundred percent.’

There was a pause.

‘I think it’s what she realised today. That’s why it was so emotional for her.’ Maribel said slowly. ‘She never think she would get to hear someone calling him “Papa”, so that happening, you can’t imagine what it means to her.’

Roger bowed his head, starting to tear up as well.

‘I, well…’ he started, but couldn’t find his words. Shaking his head, he reached out and wrapped the young woman into a tight hug.

‘Look at us two idiots’ she said, half laughing half crying.

‘I know!’ He finally let her go, and wiped his eyes. ‘Thank you for telling me all this. For being so great with us. The three of us.’

‘Thank _you_. For making my brother happy.’

They were still smiling goofily to each other when they were startled by the door opening behind them.

‘What are you two doing hiding here?’ Rafa said in a joyful voice, Roger’s and his daughter perched on his shoulders, and one of his cousins under his arm. ‘Telling secrets without us?’

‘Nothing that concerns you’ Maribel answered, tapping him playfully on the forehead, sharing a knowing smile with Roger. ‘Come on, let’s all go outside together.’

 

***

 

That evening, Roger found himself sitting at the huge, crowded dinner table in the backyard. The air was still warm despite the late hour, and an impressive number of stars were visible in the dark sky. A large part of Rafa’s family had joined them for dinner, and the Swiss was surrounded by loud conversations in Mallorcan. The kids were running around, their plates long abandoned. The food was delicious, and Roger was gladly focusing on his plate, speaking only when someone addressed him directly. He was generally a rather social guy, but to be honest, he was a bit overwhelmed by all these boisterous Spaniards. The fact that his boyfriend had deserted his seat at the end of the table to go fetch something in the kitchen and was taking his time returning wasn’t helping either. At least he was grateful to be seated in the corner as well, squeezed next to Maymo and across from Maribel. It had been a long time since the novelty value of having Roger Federer at your dinner table had faded for the both of them, and they weren’t pestering him with questions like Rafa’s aunts had been earlier, or staring intently like his little cousins. They did make the effort to try to include him in the conversation every now and then, though.

‘So, been teaching the little one football? She is not bad! You play when you are young, sí?’ Maymo said, attracting the attention of the people around them. Trust the Nadals to take their football seriously.

‘Yeah, I played in my city’s club for a while. Rafa says I’m terrible though, always make me be the goalie when they play together.’

Toni snorted at that. Ok, definitely a family thing.

‘But yeah, she is getting better and better. She hit a fantastic penalty shot the other day! Left foot and all!’

‘A lefty, eh? Well, I know someone who must be really happy’, Maribel smirked.

‘Oh yeah! I don’t think I’ve seen him this proud since his last French Open title, you know.’ Roger paused for dramatic effect, a malicious twinkle in his eyes. ‘That is, until she told him it was because she wanted to play like Messi.’

A roar of laughter raised from the table.

‘Is not funny!’ Rafa protested, strolling towards them. He set two bottles of wine on the table before falling back in his seat.

‘It really wasn’t at the time’, Roger agreed. ‘You went so white, I seriously thought you were going to faint.’

 

***

 

It was really late when Roger and Rafa finally got to their bedroom, shutting the door behind them. They had put their kid to bed a while ago, when Rafa’s relatives had started retiring for the night, leaving an impressive pile of dishes in their wake. When the last car had departed from the driveway, Roger had insisted they helped Ana Maria carry everything back inside despite her protests that they needed their rest. It was still quite hot, and the Swiss wasn’t particularly keen on going to bed with clammy skin and his hair damp from sweat, but he was definitely too tired for a shower. Rafa seemed unbothered, as he had just shrugged his shorts and T-Shirt off, and had thrown himself on top of the bed in just his boxers. “The hell with it”, Roger thought, and he took off his own clothes before joining his boyfriend, not even trying to stifle his yawn. He wriggled a little, trying to get comfortable, and ended up poking the younger man on the shin with his sweaty toes, setting off a grunt of disapprobation.

‘So, should I order her a Barca jersey for Christmas?’ He teased. ‘Maybe I’ll get one for myself as well, you know, like a matching set…’

Rafa shut him up with a rough kiss, before manhandling him to his side and spooning him from behind.

‘The day you beat me in the Roland Garros final, Rogelio, is the day I let you wear the blaugrana jersey in front of me, not before, claro?’

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand that's it. I've been stuck on the part with the Roger-Maribel conversation for a very long while, I'm still not 100% satisfied with it, but yeah, anyway... 
> 
> Thank you so much for the lovely comments I got on the first part, it's so heartwarming and really helped me finish this one <3


	3. iii

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update guys! Hope the chapter is good enough to make up for the wait (even if it's a bit on the shorter side).
> 
> Still unbetaed, still not my first language, and it's pretty late here so I apologize for any typo or mistake!
> 
> Enjoy! :)

 

**iii     TEAMS (Severin Lüthi, Toni Nadal)**

 

Severin Lüthi let out a loud whistle as Rafa hit a beautiful tweener from several meters behind his baseline.

‘Traitor’, Roger complained in an entirely unconvincing way, turning to his coach after checking that the ball had indeed landed in the court. Seve smirked and motioned for him to go back to his opponent.

 

Rafa and Roger happened to find themselves in the same resort for a few days off - thanks to a happy _coincidence_ that had taken both their teams weeks to organise. Earlier that morning, they had decided to practise together and had started hitting balls on one of the private hard courts owned by the hotel. The atmosphere was very relaxed, as no public was allowed and the only team members present were well aware of the true nature of the two players’ relationship.

 Rafa and Roger were currently keeping score, playing a set in a rather laid-back way, with Roger’s daughter running around and acting as a ball girl. Even with a “victory” at stake, it seemed that neither of them could be bothered to play seriously. It was unusual for both young men, as they were normally so competitive, but it looked as if the carefree vibe of the place had gotten to them, and they were having a great time hitting exhibition shots and crazy rallies, giggling like teenagers. The only thing that kept them from totally goofing around was the glares Toni sent them whenever they started to get too distracted. The older Spaniard had kept pretty quiet on the matter of their relationship - which they seemed to consider as good an approval as they would ever get - but he didn’t hesitate to voice his disapprobation when he felt it was causing Rafa to lose focus and neglect his training.

Severin was following the game out of habit and joined Roger at his bench when the young Swiss took a break between a couple of points. He started a long comment about his charge’s footwork and use of the backhand, but Roger protested that he was on holiday and playfully threw a water bottle at him. On their left, Rafa had let himself drop on the other bench, basking in the sun and grinning as the little girl ran to him with a towel. He bowed his head complacently as she stood on her tiptoes to wipe the sweat from his brow.

The conversations going on all around the court were suddenly interrupted by a sharp cry, and all heads turned briskly to see Rafa jumping out of his seat, cursing loudly and clutching an eye which had apparently became a bit too acquainted the towel the little blonde was holding.

‘Lo siento, Papa!’ she exclaimed, hands flying to her mouth, a look of horror on her face. Rafa shook his hand to indicate that he was fine and tried to give her a reassuring smile, but the other men froze into place. Seve actually choke on the sip of water he had just taken, and Toni’s eyebrows shot so high they disappeared under the brim of his baseball cap. They were all silent for several minutes, team members casting quick glances to each other, surprise written all over their faces. Roger and Rafa were both looking towards the ground, cheeks on fire. The Spaniard was biting his lower lip, whereas his boyfriend was trying - and failing - to contain his trademark dorky smile.

‘So, hum…’ Rafa started, still blushing.

‘Time!’ Maymo suddenly called, startling everyone, but efficiently breaking the tension.

The two guys giggled, before taking their places on each side of the net again, as their coaches and staff finally relaxed. The match resumed, as if nothing had happened.

 

***

 

Later in the evening, Rafa found himself on sitting on the couch in his hotel suite, playing playstation. Well, he had been playing playstation to be precise, engaged in a vicious FIFA battle with Maymo, before the latter had left to get some drinks.

‘Finally!’ he grunted as he heard the door open behind him. ‘Oh, it’s you’, he added, his tone falling down as he turned around and spotted his uncle.

‘Charming.’

‘No, I mean, I’m waiting for Titin’, he explained, gesturing towards the TV.

Toni lifted an eyebrow at that.

‘You’re going to wait for a while then’.

‘What? Why?’

‘They’re all in the kitchen. Federer received some package from Lindt it seems. They’re going crazy over it.’

‘Roger got chocolate? And no one told me?’ Rafa exclaimed indignantly, shooting up and glancing over his coach’s shoulder, trying to catch a glimpse of the rest of his team.

‘All the better. I don’t trust you around a box of chocolate this big’, Toni teased. ‘And anyway, you know he’ll save you some.’

‘He’s got a first name you know’, the younger man said absent-mindedly, still looking towards the door.

‘It’s really serious, then, you two. I hadn’t realised how much.’

Rafa’s head snapped back to his uncle at these words. His cheeks turned a bit pink at the memory of what the teams had overheard on the court that afternoon. He stared at his feet.

‘Yes. Yes it is.’ He said a bit sheepishly. When he finally raised his eyes, he winced at the intense look Toni was giving him. ‘It’s not going to affect my game, though.’

‘Of course it will. It is. ’ There was a pause. ‘But it doesn’t necessarily means it’s bad…You’ve changed, the last few years. You’re a different person now. I mean, you've gr...’

‘Raf!’ a voice interrupted them.

Both men turned to see Roger’s head poking through the door.

‘Hurry up, your physio is eating all the… Oh sorry, I thought you were alone’, the Swiss added, blushing when he noticed Toni’s presence.

‘I’m coming’, Rafa said, eyes back to his uncle. ‘In a minute.’

‘Of course!’ his boyfriend answered, before dashing out of the room.

Toni shook his head, an amused smile on his face.

‘You go.’

‘Yeah?’

He nodded. He clasped his nephew’s shoulder briefly, looking him straight in the eyes.

‘I’m happy for you, mi hijo.’

Rafa blushed again, and if they both started tearing up a little, well, no one would ever know, would they?

And then there was a loud crash from the room next door, and their moment was over. Rafa stood where he was, as Toni walked out of the room. At the last minute, he seemed to hesitate and turned back to the younger man with a smirk.

‘Don’t tell him I said that, though. He’s scared of me, and I’d rather it stayed like that.’

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it for today! As usual, thank you for reading, and I'd love to hear what you think of this chap :)
> 
> Thanks again to all the people who left all these lovely comments on last chapter, it really means a lot <3


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